Monday, December 25, 2006

One Down, One to Go


As the completion of my first full year of college since WHAM was a band comes to a close, let me publicly thank my wife for her amazing support and inspiration through this grueling twelve months. I don't know why, but she truly loves me. I am a lucky, lucky man.

Thank you to California Baptist University for the quality of education that is helping me improve my abilities, increase my knowledge, and impressing on me the need to think critically about life in general and my world specifically.

My youngest three children (the ones still at home) deserve a big thank you for being more self-sufficient this year, allowing me to spend my time on my studies.

I calculated roughly that in this last year I have read over 25,000 pages of printed material (I am an English major), and have written more than 1000 pages of analytic papers for composition, literature classes, second language teaching, and linguistics. To students at other schools that may not be an extensive amount, but it was ten times as much stuff done in a twelve month period as I had done throughout the thirteen years of public school and ten years of college combined.

Looking forward, this year to come will be more literature classes, language, three education classes and my final senior project. This time next year I'll be pondering which school to do my student teaching. I'll have taken my CSET tests, and I'll be ready to rock and roll. Have a GREAT year. I know I will.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Happiest of Holidays





to the three members of my family that read this -

Happy Festivus (for the rest of us)Thank you for reading!

Monday, November 20, 2006

How Many Times Can a Man Not Act Like a Man . . .









. . . before we realize he is not a man at all? Just because a human male has reached the age of puberty, simply made it to their eighteenth birthday, been allowed by law to be emancipated, does not equate to the ability to be a man. I am not talking about guys who in their immaturity repent, stop acting the "macho" fool, and begin to humbly walk with God. I am also not talking about those who so radically and passionately oppose God and His ways. I am writing today about those who are so full of their own folly, so blinded by pride and ignorance that they wash back and forth, finding a comfortable wave to take them in one direction or the next. Males that in actuality stand for nothing, and talk as if they stood for everything. Males that when push come to shove, look out only for their own pleasures, rights, and needs. Women and children be forgotten - you do not exist to such a creature, nor does responsibility, morality, or any creed save "It IS all about me!"

I tried to be that kind of guy when I first left home as a nineteen year old kid. Unfortunately (or actually FORTUNATELY) I was raised not to be that selfish, hedonistic jerk and that lifestyle became extinct to me before my twenty first birthday. It isn't as if I am preaching the evils of something I know nothing about. I hurt many people, people with potential and good in them, that may never get there because of my actions as a stupid kid.

What is more the pity are the males in their twenties, thirties, and even forties that still live this way, leaving children fatherless, leaving good women searching for love and sticking with any reasonable facsimile they can find. I have had it with boys who got my daughters, my nieces, and their friends pregnant, and either flew the coop, or preyed on the ladies needs and bring nothing to the relationship except the "me first" attitude. The latent masculine behavior in me wishes to beat them all into little submissive piles of protoplasm, however I can see that that is not the correct solution. That would be groveling down to their level, and would solve nothing.

Being an example of positive, manly behavior hasn't sparked any change either. Therefore I must access that these jerks with the XY chromosomes will not change, and I cannot effect that change. So the change must happen inside of my heart. How can I reach out to those they leave hurting in the wake of this "macho" bull? That is my dilemma. Being a Godly man is so much more than saying your prayers and going to church. Although those parts are important - The man born blind that was healied by Jesus in John 9 told the Pharisees and other men attacking his credibility that ". . . God does not listen to sinners, but to the Godly man who does His will" (John 9:31 NIV). Paul told the Romans that God has been producing evidence of His existence, His power and His love for humanity since the creation, so no one is without excuse for their disobedient behavior (Romans 1:18 NIV).




I am sick of punks and thugs being idiots and laying blame at the feet of manliness. It is a pretty shallow and pathetic individual that refuses to grow, or adapt, if you feel more comfortable with that expression, and ACT like a man by forgiving, communicating those differences, even treating women and children as precious commodities and not trophies on a shelf.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

My Dad, My Hero

Paul, the apostle, wrote to the church of Corinth, and in that letter he spoke these words: “Follow my example as I follow the example of Christ.” My father is the greatest man from my earliest recollection. His example is my brightest light. There were a few years of confusion on my part, during my teen years about my role, and my father’s role in our family. I was a bitter, unthinking teenager. Now I can see my dad as he always has been – a quiet, strong, wise, Godly man. He is totally the man I want to be like.I remember my dad on all fours, down on the floor, letting me climb all over him resembling a jungle gym, gently wrestling with me, pinning me down, then letting me escape. I played with him after he got home from work – this was the highlight of my day. There was the time dad and I were practicing soccer and I was working on my goalie skills. Dad was shooting, trying to score on me, and we were playing in our backyard. The back door of our house led from the backyard to the dining room. The house floor plan was open, with the living room to the right of the door, and straight through the dining room was the kitchen. The half of the house where the back door, dining room, living room and front door were had large plate glass windows to let in maximum light. The width of the inside of the house, from wall to wall was about 25 feet. Outside, there were bricks from the ground up to and around the window, and due to the hilly terrain, the bottom of the dining room window was 5 feet up from the lawn. Dad was really trying to spray the ball around the “goal area”, and he was making it more and more difficult for me. Then, because I must have been doing really well, he put some “stank on it”. He kicked the ball through dining room picture window, blasting shards from the 8 foot wide, 4 foot high glass pane throughout the dining room, kitchen, and all the way to the wall 25 feet across the living room. After we rushed in the back door to check on my mother and little sister’s safety, we found the soccer ball flat as a pancake, punctured from its horrific ordeal. He didn’t dare laugh then, because mom was very angry. We did laugh in the car after the mess was cleaned up, though, when we went to the hardware store for a new window!

He taught me to play chess, so I could use my brains more productively than sitting on them watching the Lone Ranger and Batman on television. We would sometimes play for hours, and I sincerely don’t remember winning very many matches, (an approach he has changed nowadays with his grandkids) but I won one or two out of every ten. He wouldn’t just sit and play. He would teach me strategy, teach me about being patient, and always remind me to think things through. Not very often I would actually take what he said to heart, but those seeds he planted eventually germinated, took root and grew. My favorite time with my dad was when he took me to Bronco games at the famous Mile High Stadium in Denver, Colorado. We saw many games and other sights associated with those games together. With dad I saw the effects of alcoholism on men in downtown Denver, where they would stumble around or sit on the sidewalk as we walked from the parking lot to the stadium, and as always my dad would give me things to think about, never making fun or putting these individuals down. There were all the people that like us came to cheer and boo rabidly at the Bronco game. I remember all the colorful phrases I would hear, and then be told by my dad that those never will come from my mouth, because my consequences would be severe – mom would never let me go to another game. I can still remember the games, the great plays, and the way I felt, having that much fun with my dad!I always saw my dad as a big man. He grew up on a farm, and could literally throw a 75 pound bale of hay over his head with either hand. His hands and forearms were bigger than anyone else I knew personally, but dad didn’t show off or wear shirts that did either. His character was consistent. Horace Greeley, the famous New York newspaper editor, said, "Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, riches take wing, and only character endures." This aptly describes my father. It is easier to describe his character traits than his physical attributes. He was usually very quiet, always a great listener and he would give sound, Godly advice, or the shirt off his back if someone asked for either. He was just 5’ 10” tall, and only weighed 155 pounds.During my sophomore year of high school, the Shangri-la I shared with my father went dark. I was hip-deep in trigonometry, chemistry, and self-pity because of a knee surgery that kept me from playing all sports. One night when dad got home from work, I was in dire need of his private tutoring. My dad was an engineer who worked for the Federal government, taking care of dams, rivers, and lakes. He was a math whiz. As I remember back, he had a remarkable way of breaking down every problem into understandable parts, like the cars he would repair for neighbors and church friends.As I asked for help, and he told me that my little sister needed his help first. He might as well have said, “You are no longer important to me.” My heart heard his response and lied to my ears. His words were “wait”, but I was too selfish. Like when Willie Mays caught the shot off Vic Wertz’s bat in the 1954 World Series, robbing Wertz of his extra base hit and rbi - my glory was stolen, and my dad didn’t want to help me anymore.I thought, “Fine, I’ll show you.” From that day forward, I ceased all homework. That was ample punishment for my father, I thought. Coincidentally, my dad’s job was taking him out of town three out of every four weeks, traveling the country. My grades dropped significantly, but they didn’t disappear out of sight. I graduated with a 2.55 GPA, thanks to art and music classes. Boy, I taught my dad a lesson. My “A” average from 7th, 8th, and 9th grade was never seen again.

Since my needs were not met, I sought to punish my father. Ironically, the punishment was seriously against me.As the punishment continued, more of my heart and my life pulled away from my dad. I became a college student, far away from home, and I never took school serious. Then, like the one-armed juggler of chainsaws, I made an error in judgment. A fellow college girl, on a hunt for attention and acceptance, found me, a raging hormone with more than designs on anything in a skirt, and one night two stupid kids committed parenthood. As if my conservative, Bible-believing family needed more public embarrassment, I undoubtedly topped myself. I was unmarried, with no desire to change that status, and was expecting a baby with a girl I, if truth be told, didn’t like at all. To add insult to injury, I lied and denied the precept that the baby could even be mine. In the middle of all this, my dad not only stood by me, he also turned up the love and took care of me.The disappointment continued as the young lady carrying my baby agreed with me that we should not get married. The process of “doing right by the girl” was not in our minds, but it was foremost in our family. When my first child, Jessica, was almost two, her mom told me she wanted to marry an Air Force Academy graduate, and he wanted to adopt Jessica. After much prayer and devotion, I made a very hard choice. As hard as it was giving up paternal rights to my girl, it was best for her. She would grow up in a whole family. This decision also hurt my father. Nevertheless, neither he nor my mom ever even balked at loving me.As years went by, I met a young lady, fell in love, and married. We made a choice to leave Colorado and move to California, packing up our 5 month old son, and leaving both of our families. Four years later, she and I were separated on the road to divorce; she had a new boyfriend, and our five year old son was left confused and hurt. This all took place 1200 miles from my dad. He never got down on me or Mary, my ex-wife. He didn’t take sides, and he was always supportive.

He is still as amazing today. Months past and I met Pam. She was divorced with three kids. We grew to love each other greatly, and with our four children we decided to make a family together. We added two children of our own. My dad loves every kid as if they were his favorite. He showed me that labels are for the weak and unstable, so Pam and I have never used “half” or “step” to describe any of our family relationships.My dad told me he was proud of me when Pam and I moved into our house in Riverside, California. All the roads I have traveled, all the mistakes I have made, everything pales to the love he continues to show me. The funny thing is I have known for quite a while that he loved me, even through the course of all those hiccups of my life. We talk nowadays more than we did during my high school years. I have heard many people talk about going back and re-living part of your life over. My dad practiced the words of the Apostle Paul to the Ephesians. “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” He tried his best to teach me as well. Unfortunately, it took years to soak in. Now I know that is what I am supposed to do. If I went back, it would be to re-live that one moment, that day when my dad said “later” and I heard “never”. My hero, my most tangible example of Christ-likeness, was never out of bounds, but I was. I would be closer still today, and I would know him even better if I could just go back.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Divorce Creates the "Kafkaesque" Situation

It was many years ago, but the pain of my divorce is like a scabbed cut on my arm that I bump from time to time, it breaks open and hurts so bad, and never quite heals and scars over. In Kafka'a The Metamorphosis, Gregor is changed into a giant bug, and his family slowly changes in their attitudes and behaviors toward him and themselves.

Supposedly, this story is classic "must read" literature. When my wife left me and took my son, I felt like I was not human, I could not speak intelligently to people, and I felt like I should just find a dark corner and hide most of the time. Gregor eventually became a non-factor to his family, and they went on without him. That is how I felt after my divorce.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

The Ultimate Feel Good Story


The Story of Job from the Old testament of the Bible is one that gives us insight into God's heart. He did not create robots, or mental and emotional slaves, but in mankind God gave us a will to choose following Him, or to go another path. Any person on the planet with a pulse knows that when someone truly LOVES with their whole heart the atmosphere surrounding them is sweeter, more joyful than following out of duty, obligation, or force. Job was given many trials to withstand and at the end of the story he was rewarded. That is a feel good story from classic literature.

The all knowing "who's who" of literature that deem certain passages better than others, certain authors above others, and the "classics" in that group of stories and books many times are searching, searching for truths, for directions, or for inner most feelings. Most of the great writers of history had holes in their personalities, or their psyches that caused them great anguish and suffering in which they wrote about. Melville's inability to commit to God, Dostoevsky's gambling addiction causing his poor station (monetarily) in life, Dickinson's insecurity, Kafka's, unwillingness to live under anothers authority, to mention just a few - these giants of the literary world have gifts 'far beyond those of mortal men.'

I truly wish I could write about the fantastic voyage my life has taken. I would tell how God has blessed me in the face of my selfish ways, my stubborn actions and my ignorant ideals. I have seven beautiful and healthy children today. They all have their own stories of struggles and strife, some stemming from my inability as a parent, but most just the breaks of being human. In the book of Matthew 5:45, Jesus said that God makes the sun to shine on both the good and the evil, and rain on the righteous and the unrighteous man or woman. In the seven children I have raised, helped raise, or just fathered, there are a myriad of maladies, and personal issues that would make many folks quiver with fear. A parent lives on the edge every day praying to whatever Deity that their children are safe and healthy, and mine have had malignant tumors in their head, Severe Combined Immune Deficiency Syndrome, an aortic valve malfunction, infected cysts on the brain, crossed eyes, and extra fingers and toes. Although these kids all had their burdens, along with divorced parents, today I have seven healthy kids, four high school graduates so far, three to go, one college grad, and two gorgeous grandchildren.

Let me make this perfectly clear, I take no credit for their fortunate health, but I worried and grieved as each one went through their own ordeals. God's grace kept my mind intact and helped get my wife and I through every trial. Those kids are my life, and regardless of status, whether step child, first marriage, adopted or second marriage, there is nothing I would not give for them or to them for their benefit!